I'm beginning to like the MacEwan's no. 100 bus. It skirts the Pentlands on its way South, making it very useful for walking trips. It has friendly drivers who chat to the passengers. It is obscure, only anouncing its presence most discretely at the bottom of the signs at selected stops. This gives the whole experience an air of freemasonry.
I was more adventurous than before, taking the bus to Biggar, there to ascend Culter Fell. The back seat was occupied by four pensioners sucking on boiled sweets. The waft of Murray Mint and the clack of boiling upon denture reminded me strongly of elderly aunts who used to feed me such sugary Scottish treats when I was wee.
On the way back, when I stepped off on Morningside Road, somebody asked me if it was a special bus, or if anybody could get on.
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